


Santa's Good Boy

by WinchesterWytch



Series: Best Christmas Ever [2]
Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: 18+ ONLY, Aftercare, D/s, F/M, First-time Domme, Fluff, Language, Masturbation, NSFW, Oral, Rough Sex, Smut, Sub Dean, Unprotected Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21868495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinchesterWytch/pseuds/WinchesterWytch
Summary: Dean’s being a good boy… kind of. Will he get what he really wants, or just end up frustrated?
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader
Series: Best Christmas Ever [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574350
Kudos: 12





	Santa's Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my ever-fabulous editor Candice, @cleighwrites. I couldn’t have finished this properly without her.

She chuckles at the expression on his face. He’s trying so hard to be good and keep quiet. Mainly because she loves the sound of his voice, she takes pity on him. “You can speak, now.”

“Jesus, woman, are you trying to kill me?” His voice wavers, thick with need.

She, unsuccessfully, tries to hide the humor in her voice. “You… uh, you alright?”

He strains against the cuffs, muscles flexing tight. “Yeah, but I want to touch you.”

“Not yet.” Her voice is stern.

Dean moans loudly when her fingers encircle his shaft and Y/N lets out a soft moan. “Damn, how’d I get so lucky? So fucking huge.”

She doesn’t realize that she’s said that out loud until she hears his cocky response.“That’s not gonna be a problem is it, sweetheart?”

She purrs, as her tongue sweeps over the tip of his cock gathering up the precome. “Don’t be so smug, you know it’s not. Just admiring the equipment.” Her hand slides down, and she sucks the head of his shaft into her warm mouth, taking him deeper with each bob of her head, her tongue pressing against his velvety skin. Sliding her other hand along the chair seat, she wraps her fingers around his sac and begins to gently massage his balls.

He utters a strangled “Fuck,” as his cock throbs in her mouth and his sac tightens. The wooden chair creaks as he strains against the cuffs. “Y/N… please. Y/N/N… Y/N, stop!” he cries out, his entire body taut.

She slows down her assault on him but keeps her lips around his shaft as she hums her response around his cock, “u-uh.”

Dean groans in frustration, “I- I’m gonna- gonna come if you keep that up.”

Her tongue glides along the throbbing vein of his shaft as she pulls back, swirling it around his cockhead before sucking her way off of him. She replaces her mouth with her hand, slowly stroking his shaft. “Mmm, kind of the point, isn’t it?” He hadn’t used his safeword, but she wants to make sure he’s okay. She watches carefully as he starts to thrust into her hand trying to gain more friction. “Besides, I love hearing you scream my name.” A final glance at the strung-out expression on his face, reassures her that’s he’s alright. She grips him tighter and flicks out her tongue to tease just under his head.

Dean howls in response and bucks into her fist. Dropping her head, she takes him into her mouth once again. Her hands press against his thighs, preventing him from squeezing them around her or bucking into her mouth. She relaxes her jaw and pushes forward until his cockhead is bumping the back of her throat. Swallowing, her muscles tighten around his shaft and send him over the edge.

Dean roars, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” A guttural noise that sounds somewhat like her name passes his lips, as hot come shoots down her throat. Her fingers dig into the tender skin of his thighs as she drinks down everything he has to offer. She licks him clean as he starts to soften in her mouth, releasing him with a light kiss to the tip

“Jesus, fucking Christ!” he gasps. A sheen of sweat coats his skin, and his chest heaves as his body shudders one last time.

“Oops,” she laughs. “Santa was a bad, bad girl.”

He barks out a laugh.

“You do taste good all over.” Her voice is a low rasp once again. She leans in and kisses him, sliding her tongue between his parted lips, letting him taste himself on her tongue. She licks her lips as she pulls away. “Made me so wet, hearing those sounds and feeling your come slide down my throat.”

“Please, Y/N,” he begs.

“Not yet,” she tsks. He unhooks his ankles, and she quickly steps back before he can trap her between his legs. “Now, now. Only good boys get rewarded.” She watches as he relaxes his arms, calms his breathing, and then smiles.

“I wanna show you how good I can be.”

She almost chokes out a laugh of her own at the pout of his lips, instead, she silently moves behind him, watching as he shifts in the chair, turning his head, trying to locate her. His body jerks in surprise when she leans in, her mouth lightly pressed against the edge of his ear. “You want your last present?”

“Yes.” Exasperation and desire are evident in his tone.

“Then this is what’s going to happen.” She moves her lips to his neck, then traces the shell of his ear with her tongue, making his body shiver, before she continues. Her voice is firm when she speaks again. “I’m going to take the cuffs off, but the blindfold stays on.” She rubs her cheek against his, letting the stubble of his beard scrape deliciously across her skin. “You’re going to relax and rest your hands on your legs. No touching until I say so.”

“Y/N/N…,” he whines in frustration.

Tugging at his hair, she pulls his head back, teasing, “If you continue to be a good boy, I promise it will be worth the wait.” Releasing his hair, she shoves his head forward, taunting, “If you’re a bad boy, you get nothing more.” She moves to his other side, and his head turns at the sound of her voice. “Do you understand?

“I understand,” he huffs. Y/N places a kiss at his temple before backing away.

As soon as she removes the cuffs, she watches him roll the stiff muscles of his shoulders, before placing his hands on top of his thighs. His wrists are chafed and red from straining against the metal bonds, but he doesn’t move to ease the pain.

She gently pushes him forward, and he lets his head drop as she kneads out the kinks in his neck and back. Slowly working her way down, and then gliding her hands up his sides. Running a hand over his shoulder and down the front of his body, she presses her palm flat against his chest, bringing him back to an upright position.

“Thank you,” he hums as his head lulls back.

She chuckles, bending slightly, her lips barely graze his as she extols, “You were a very good boy.” He’s gone quiet, and still; too quiet. “Dean, you okay?” He doesn’t immediately respond and she gently grabs his chin, raising her voice a bit. “Dean?”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Feel good.” Y/N lets out a shaky breath and releases his chin. She cards her fingers through his hair taking a moment to compose herself again.

“You’re gonna make me fall asleep if you keep that up.” His voice is thick and raspy.

She grips a handful of his hair and tugs hard, his loud grunt pulls her back in. Her voice is controlled when she asks, “You ready for your next present?”

“Hell, yeah!” He sits upright. She keeps her hand fisted in his hair to keep him in place as she walks around to stand in front of him again.

Damp from sweat, his hair slips like silk through her fingers as she releases her hold to ghost them along his jawline; he shivers as she sketches a path down his neck and across his collarbone. She traces the muscles of his arm, smiling as his skin pebbles in the wake of her touch. By the time she’s done repeating the same actions on his left side, his entire body is covered in goosebumps and sweat; muscles flexing as he continues to restrain himself.

Bending over, she places her hands on top of his, still resting on his thighs. Dean’s lips part in anticipation as she brushes her tongue just underneath his bottom lip. “You okay?” she breathes into him.

“Ye- yes,” he whispers back. She moves to stand and smiles as his lips try to follow hers.

Careful to avoid his tender wrists, she squeezes his hands so he doesn’t move any further, reminding him, “Leave these here until I tell you otherwise.” Moving her hands to the blindfold, she pushes it off his head, letting it fall to the floor.

* * *

* * *

Dean opens his eyes and blinks a couple of times, letting his pupils adjust to the dim lighting again. Once he’s finally able to focus, he finds her standing at the end of the bed, facing him. He smiles, excitedly. She’s still wearing the wrap, not giving away anything. “Hey, beautiful,” he whispers.

Winking, she smiles back, “Hey, gorgeous.” Closing the gap between them, she lifts her right leg and places her foot on the edge of the seat between his legs. “Take it off,” she husks.

His cock twitches, beginning to swell at the sight in front of him. When she lifts her leg, the wrap falls open, and he can see the lacy garter holding her stockings in place. His tongue flicks out, wetting his lips. “Son of a bitch,” he whispers as his pupils grow dark with lust. He gently grasps her ankle, lifting her foot to remove her shoe, placing it reverently on the floor next to the chair. He _really_ loves those shoes. He leans down and places a kiss to the top of her foot before setting it back on the chair.

Dean watches as her gaze follows the path of his hand up her calf and to her knee. His hand cradles the back of her leg, and he leans down again, placing another kiss just above her knee cap. He feels her muscles tremble when his fingers brush across her thigh. Her eyes darken, and her hands clench at the folds of her wrap. He slowly pops each of the garter clips open with a flick of his fingers. He hears her breath hitch as his other hand brushes against her inner thigh and his cock twitches in response. He takes his time rolling the stocking down her leg, enjoying the sight of her skin pebbling as his fingers ghost across it.

Y/N places a hand on his shoulder to steady herself when he lifts her foot to finish removing the stocking, dropping it next to her shoe. Lowering her foot to the floor, she takes a moment to balance herself before raising her other foot to the chair. This time his tongue follows the path of his hand.

His teeth graze across her thigh to the top of the stocking. His face is so close to her cunt and… fuck, he can smell her. His cock jumps against his belly. He wants to taste her so bad. All he has to do is lean forward and he could swipe his tongue along her soaked panties. He knows he shouldn’t, but then again, the punishment would probably be worth it. Just a little closer…

* * *

* * *

When she feels his nose brush against the crease of her hip and thigh, she quickly fists a hand in his hair and yanks his head up and back. She hears him hiss at the pain, his fingers grip around her thigh. “What do you think you’re doing?” she growls. The smirk that was plastered on his face quickly fades. Expression changing to one of a lost puppy dog, eyes wide and pleading. She shakes her head. “Nope, that won’t work with me.”

He tries to drop his head, but her hand in his hair keeps it in place. Her foot is still resting on the chair and she leans over her leg, forcing him to lean into the back of the chair with her knee pressing into his chest. Dean’s hands slide from her leg and he places them back on top of his thighs. His head is tilted back and to his right, neck stretched taut. “Thought you were going to take a little taste without asking for permission?” She swipes her tongue across his neck, then nips his earlobe, before whispering, “Did you really think you could get away with that?”

“I- I’m sorry.” His crestfallen look almost does her in, but she needs to finish this, for him. She wanted this to be special for him and she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to do it right. She’s also decided that she wants to do this again and needs to feel like she’s earned his submission.

When she’d accidentally discovered that he was into being submissive, she had been intrigued as to why he hadn’t mentioned it yet. She’d always been curious but had never trusted any of her other partners enough to pursue it. Figuring that Dean felt it was too early in their relationship, and realizing that she felt comfortable enough that this was something she wanted to share with him, she decided to take matters into her own hands and surprise him. So far, she’s very happy that she did.

She releases his hair and cups his chin, fingers pressing hard into the stubble of his jaw, tilting his face toward hers, demanding, “Look at me.” She waits until his eyes meet hers and then scolds, “Now what happens is that you only get to watch. You don’t get to speak. You don’t get to touch. You don’t get to taste. Not until I say so.” She releases his jaw and slaps his cheek, just enough to give it a little sting. “Do I need to handcuff you again?” Dean flexes his wrists but leaves them lying in his lap and shakes his head. “You can use your words.”

“No, ma’am.” His voice is so deliciously low and rough, it raises the hairs on the back of her neck. Christ, she could definitely get used to this.

“Spread your legs again,” she orders. He immediately hooks his ankles around the chair legs. He drops his gaze to the floor and waits for her next command. “There’s my good boy. Eyes back on me.” He lifts his head and her heart skips a beat when she sees the desire on his face, his cheeks are flushed, his lips parted, tongue pressed against the back of his teeth, and eyes dark with lust.

It hits her like a freight train. How much Dean enjoys being submissive; how he relishes in being commanded. No. He doesn’t just enjoy it, he craves it. He needs someone to take control of him. Well, if that’s what he wants, then that’s what she’s going to give him. After all, this is a Christmas present, right? Everyone should get what they want for Christmas.

Y/N keeps her eyes locked with his as she raises her stocking-clad leg back up to the chair between his legs. She slides her foot along the wood and then lifts it to press the sole of her foot against his twitching cock. He inhales sharply through his nose at the feeling and presses his lips together in a thin line to keep quiet.

“Such a good boy.”

Y/N glides her foot up and down his shaft and watches as he slowly begins to come undone, the flushed skin of his chest, the drop of sweat at his temple, the ragged breaths that pass his lips; his cock begins to swell as the silky fabric caresses his velvety skin. She takes her time, gliding her foot over his hardening shaft, teasing. When she feels him throb against the sole of her foot and his precome wets her toes, she stills, tilts her body forward, and lets her foot press his cock into his belly. A growl rumbles in his chest and she raises an eyebrow, he bites hard into his bottom lip to keep it contained.

“Watch me,” she husks. His eyes follow her fingers as they graze over the last garter clip holding the stocking in place and she flicks it open. A finger slides under the silk, sliding back and forth across her skin, his eyes dart from side to side following the movement. Her other hand traces the muscles up his arm, a feather’s touch and she sees him shiver.

Both of her thumbs now rest under the edge of the stocking. A pinch and roll of her fingers and the first fold is made, pinch and roll, _pinch_ and _roll_. His eyes never leave her hands. Pinch and roll. When the fabric reaches her knee, she tilts her body forward causing her foot to increase the pressure on his cock. His left hand flinches in his lap, but there’s no other movement, the only sounds are the labored breaths escaping his lips.

_Pinch_ and _roll_. It’s halfway down her calf, her face is now level with his as she leans over her leg, her foot forcing his cock to lie still against his belly. She tilts her head, her lips centimeters from his, breath mingling. His eyes momentarily linger on her lips, and when he finally raises them to hers, she can see the hunger there.

She smiles. “You’re being such a good boy now, aren’t you? Maybe you’ll get to open your present after all.” Y/N senses his jaw clench as she breathes the words into his mouth, her lips barely grazing his. Dean’s gaze falls back down to her hands. “So good for me.” She spreads her fingers, letting the silk flutter down around her ankle. Keeping the pressure of her foot steady, she straightens her torso and drops her hands to her sides. She wiggles her toes and the resulting rumble in his chest sends her pulse racing. “When I lift my foot, I want you to remove the stocking without touching me.” His jaw begins to drop and he quickly snaps it shut. “No touching, Dean,” she warns again.

She adjusts her balance, and then removes her foot from the throbbing cock beneath it. There’s a quick intake of breath and then he’s biting hard into his bottom lip again. His hands shake as he slowly raises them from his lap. Y/N watches his forehead crinkle as he concentrates on his task. She’s never seen him move this slow. “Dean, be quick about it.” She catches the brief smirk that crosses his lips but ignores it.

He pinches the bunched silk between a thumb and forefinger on each side of her ankle and whisks the fabric from her foot in one swift motion. She laughs at the look of triumph on his face, making her wobble, she quickly drops her foot back on the front of the chair to keep from falling. Her toes graze against his dick and he grunts, “Fuck”.

The muscles in his jaw tick as his eyes plead for forgiveness. She narrows her eyes, stares, neither of them moves; one, two, three heartbeats and then she smiles. “You did well.” She watches as every muscle in his body relaxes. His hands are back on his thighs.

She slides her foot off the chair, being careful not to touch him. She hops back on her other foot, stumbling before she corrects her balance. His hand briefly lifts from his leg, an instinct to help her, before settling back in place. She sits on the end of the bed with a plop, facing him.

He’s looking at the floor again. She leans back, resting her weight on her hands. Her eyes roam his body, drinking in the smooth skin covered in sweat, “Dean, look at me.” His eyes are lighter now but still filled with desire. “Are you okay?” He nods. “You can speak.”

“Y- yes,” he stutters.

“Dean?” she urges.

He clears his throat. “I’m good.”

She leans forward, arms resting on her thighs, her eyes drop to his cock, thick and hard, throbbing with need. “Dean,” her voice is thick with emotion. “Santa wants to watch her good boy make himself come.” When she glances up, the look on his face is priceless. She’ll never forget it as long as she lives.

“Y/N, I- I….” He can’t form a coherent sentence.

She smirks, leans back on her hands again and spreads her legs wide. Lets him see how wet her panties are, lets him see her damp inner thighs. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” she threatens.

His throat bobs and he chokes out, “Son of a bitch.” He slides his hips forward on the chair, ankles still locked in place. Fingers wrap around his throbbing shaft, thumb brushes against the tip picking up the come leaking from the slit, spreading it along his length with a downward stroke. His body shudders and she knows he won’t last long. Fingers curl tight, a pull up, twist, stroke down.

His eyes are still on her. Y/N slides her ass to the very edge of the bed, leaning further back on her hands. She lifts her right leg and places her foot on top of his knee and he swallows hard. When she raises her left leg and rests that foot on his other knee, he grunts and she sees him squeeze the base of his cock. A growl rumbles low in his chest when she runs a hand along her inner thigh and then slides a finger along the edge of her panties. She moves the soaked fabric aside and shoves a finger into her cunt, causing him to buck his hips and rapidly stroke himself. Her feet press down on his knees to keep them both grounded and the action lifts her hips from the bed, giving him an even better view of her finger pumping into her slick folds. When she slides a second finger in, she hears his breath hitch and then he’s coming with a shout of her name. God, he’s so beautiful, head thrown back, mouth open, come shooting across his hand and belly. As the last shudder ripples through his body, she stands, closing the gap between them.

She places the fingers coated in her slick into his open mouth, her other hand brushes his cheek before cradling his head. “Suck,” she orders. His mouth closes around her fingers, tongue swirling, moaning when he tastes her. Seconds pass and she pulls her fingers free and drags them over his soft, full lips.

“You okay, babe?”

He opens his eyes and the look he gives her makes her stomach flip. “I’m so much better than ‘okay’.”

“Alright, let’s get you cleaned up and taken care of, then.” She leans down and gives him a kiss, an arm snakes around her waist trying to pull her closer but she pulls back, breaking the kiss, and teases, “Did I say you could touch me?”

His arm immediately drops away and his eyes fill with panic. Y/N raises an eyebrow and hums in disapproval before placing a quick kiss to his lips. She hears him let out a relieved sigh as she walks around him to her desk.

She grabs a bottle of water from the top of her desk and opens it before reaching over his shoulder to place it in his hand. “Here, drink.” Waiting until he has a firm grasp on the bottle, she lets go then runs her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp as he gulps down the refreshing liquid. “Take it slow, tiger.” He lowers the bottle from his lips, letting it rest on the chair between his legs. Leaning his head back into the soothing feel of her fingers, he shuts his eyes and smiles.

Y/N watches him relax under her touch and reminds herself that she needs to get him cleaned up. She hesitates for a second, knowing she shouldn’t leave him alone, but needing to get a cloth, cursing herself for not being better prepared. She gently slides her fingers from his hair, watching his facial expression for any change.

She’s about halfway to the bathroom when he calls out, a hint of panic in his voice, “Where’re you going?”

“I’ll be right back, I promise.” He nods and relaxes back into the chair, closing his eyes again. She takes a couple more steps before turning back to him. “Are you okay? Do you, um, need to…?”

“No,” he cuts her off. “C- couldn’t move if I wanted to.”

She takes a couple more steps. “You sure?”

Rolling his face toward her, he arches an eyebrow, eyes still closed. “Positive.”

“Yell if you need me.” Y/N leaves the door open behind her as she enters the bathroom. She almost misses the loving smile that crosses his face.

When she returns, she takes a moment to watch the steady rise and fall of his chest before she starts to clean him up. His eyes pop open when her fingers accidentally brush his cock as she removes the water bottle from between his legs, but he remains still. After setting the bottle on the floor, she starts with his hand. She cradles his wrist in her palm and wipes his hand clean before moving on to his belly. He’s being so good, barely moving under her ministrations. When she wraps the cloth around his sensitive shaft, however, he moans and his muscles tense. She stills her hand and whispers, “Shh, I’ve got you.”

Y/N places her other hand over his heart and presses her palm flat on his chest, her thumb slowly stroking back and forth. When she feels his heart rate begin to slow, she quickly finishes cleaning him, wiping a few drops of come from the chair as well. She throws the cloth toward the bathroom, then picks up the water bottle. She keeps her other hand pressed against his chest, thumb caressing his skin.

“Dean, raise your head.” He does as he’s told, opening his eyes slightly. He parts his lips as she places the opening of the bottle to them. “Drink.” She lets him have a couple of sips before placing the bottle back on the floor. Standing she trails her fingers up his chest and over his shoulder as she walks around behind him.

She grabs a small glass jar from her desk, opens it and scoops out some of the herbal balm from inside, then warms it between her hands before placing them on his shoulders. “Sit up for me,” she coaxes.

Dean scoots back and straightens his body. He slowly begins to relax as she massages away the stiffness. She guides him forward, his head dropping as she soothes the aches from his back and shoulders. When she’s done there, she positions his back flush with the chair.

Kneeling in front of him, she takes his left hand in hers, gently rubbing some of the healing salve into the skin of his wrist and hand. After finishing his other wrist and both arms, she sits back on her heels and moves down to his legs. Lifting a leg by his calf, she rests the heel of his foot on her thigh. Starting with the balls of his feet, she begins to massage his leg.

“You were such a good boy, Dean.” She watches the proud smile spread across his face. Her hands move up to his calf and by the time she reaches his thigh, he’s snoring softly. She quietly hums to herself as she continues to massage his leg muscles.


End file.
